So Many Times Before
by ShadowsOnTheMoon
Summary: After a series of dramatic events, Buffy and Willow discover that what they have might be more than friendship.
1. Buffy

**I wrote this a couple of years ago, but there were some issues with it. So I took it down, revamped it, ended it, and now here it is again. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Hey guys," said Buffy, walking into the library, like she'd done so many times before.

A quick scan of the room as she tossed her bag onto the table showed nothing out of the ordinary. Giles at the desk, nose buried in a book. Xander sitting in the stacks, flicking through a comic book. Oz off to one side, silently watching. No Willow and no Cordy, but that wasn't too unusual.

As Buffy walked in, all eyes turned to her. And she knew at once that something was wrong. No way people could look that bad without something being wrong.

"What?" she asked cautiously, sitting down beside Giles.

When no one answered, she looked around at them all. They weren't looking at her anymore. They wouldn't even meet her eyes.

"What?" she said again, more forcefully, getting more agitated every second that slipped by.

Oz had his knuckles pressed up against his mouth, like he was trying not to scream. Suddenly he flung his arms out and said, "Willow's gone."

"Gone?" she echoed. "Gone how? Gone where?"

He gave her one of his say-it-all looks.

"Right," she said, feeling foolish. "If you knew where she was, you'd have gone to get her."

"Duh," said Xander, standing up and coming down to meet them. He was wringing his hands and his eyes were darting all over the place.

"When did you guys last see her?" asked Buffy, diving straight into detective mode.

"Uh, this morning?" said Oz, thinking. "We met up before school, and we were meant to meet up at lunch, but she didn't come. I thought maybe she was with you guys or something."

"I saw her during First Period," said Xander. "We had History together. She seemed fine. Rushed off afterwards, but I figured that was just Willow being Willow."

"Giles?" prompted Buffy, turning to her Watcher. "When did you last see her?"

"What?" he said, seeming surprised at being addressed. In his surprise, he nearly knocked over his cup of tea. Uprighting it, he adjusted his glasses and replied, "I haven't seen her all day, actually. I didn't think much of it until Xander and Oz -" each name with an accompanying nod in their direction "- came in this afternoon."

"So," said Buffy, getting up and starting to pace around the room. "Here's what we know. Willow's missing. No one's seen her since after First Period. She seemed to be acting normally, and didn't mention anything about going anywhere. I think we have to assume something bad's happened to her."

"Something bad?" said Xander. "In Sunnydale? Impossible."

Buffy shot him a glance, and Giles said, "Somehow we always seem to jump to unpleasant conclusions. Isn't it possible that she just went home?"

"Willow, miss school?" Buffy said. "The girl who uses her weekends to categorise her class notes?"

"Ah," said Giles. "I see your point."

He took his glasses off and started absently cleaning them, then went on. "I suppose we have to assume something happened to her."

"Thanks for jumping aboard the bandwagon, Giles," said Buffy. "But the real question now is: what happened?"

* * *

Heading home after a Scooby meeting and an hour of patrolling, Buffy was wiped. She was too tired for this. Endless nights of patrolling, trying to keep up with schoolwork, and now Willow was missing. It was all too much. What she wouldn't give for a -

"Slayer?"

The voice was low, rasping, and came from the bushes beside her. Never a good sign.

On alert at once, she replied innocently, "Who, me? No, I carry around these stakes and crosses because I'm making a political statement."

There was a hoarse laugh. "Funny. She's funny."

Buffy looked around, but couldn't see anyone. Slowly, she pulled a stake from her bag.

"That wouldn't work," said the voice. "I'm not a vampire, little girl."

"What are you then?" asked Buffy, trying to use the sound of the voice to pinpoint its location. "Demon? Ghost? Robot?"

"I am something your little mind couldn't even conceive of," it replied. "And I have something you want."

"Willow," muttered Buffy. Then, to the creature, she said, "What do you want?"

"To live," it said.

"Live?" echoed Buffy. "What do you mean? What are you?"

But the voice was silent.

"Damn it," she murmured, and began searching the area.

There was nothing there. Her failed search finished, she turned around and muttered, "Willow, where are you?"

There was no answer, but she hadn't expected one. Her friend was gone, and she didn't know where. She couldn't find her. She couldn't do a damn thing to help her, and that thought drove her crazy.

Willow. Alone. In trouble. Hurt. Captured. Tortured. Who knew? She had to find her. Had to help her. But how?

Frustrated, she continued her patrol for a while. She found a vampire lurking around the entrance to the cemetery, but she was in no mood for a big fight. Not even bothering with her usual punning and banter, she grabbed a stake and dusted it, barely breaking her stride. The next one she found, a couple of blocks away, put up a better fight, but it was only enough to take her mind off things for a minute or two.

Then, stepping over the pile of dust in the grass, Buffy headed back to find her friends. The ones she could find, that is.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it was creepy," Buffy said later that night. "Full stalker mojo going on."

"But he didn't actually hurt you?" prompted Giles. "Your mysterious nemesis didn't actually reveal himself – or herself? He – or she – didn't physically touch you?"

"Well, no," she admitted.

"Which doesn't leave us much to go on," said Xander.

They were in the library again. It was the middle of the night – at least, that's what Buffy kept telling herself. She shuddered to think what time it really was. And there was still no sign of Willow. She'd been gone for over twelve hours.

"The thing is," Buffy went on, twirling a pencil between her fingers, "I don't think she's dead."

She saw Xander wince – presumably at the mention of the word 'dead' – but ignored him and continued. "The guy, whoever he was, said he had something of mine. I think he's using her as a hostage."

"Like leverage?" said Xander, catching on.

Buffy looked at him, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "Exactly."

"Which means she could be worse than dead," Oz pointed out.

Fighting back the urge to agree with him, Buffy said firmly, "I'll get her back, Oz."

"How?" asked Xander.

"I – I'm working on it," Buffy replied.

An hour later, she was still working on it, and getting nowhere fast. Slamming another book closed, she said, "This isn't helping."

Giles looked up from his own stack of books. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree. We have no idea what sort of creature has taken her, or why. I think the only thing we can do is -"

"Keep researching," she said, standing up. "I'm going to patrol. I can't stand it here anymore. I've got to _do_ something."

Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the door. She'd just reached out to open it when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Bring her back," said Xander.

She nodded. She would. Even if she herself didn't come back, she'd make sure Willow did.

* * *

If she was tired before, she was dead now. The only thing keeping her from creeping into her room and collapsing under the warm, soft covers of her bed was one fact. Willow was missing. Anything else could wait. She'd always felt this way about Willow. And Xander. Heck, even Giles. Ever since she'd come to Sunnydale, she'd been protective of her friends. And she had to be, with her being the Slayer and them insisting on helping her.

If anything happened to any one of them, any of the Scoobies – even Oz or Cordy, who were in the outer circle – she wouldn't be able to live with it. She didn't mean that in a melodramatic way. She didn't say it but secretly mean that it would hurt for a while, but she'd deal. She meant it, every word, exactly the way it sounded. If one of them died, she would too. Simple as that.

"God, Will," she murmured, staring up at the nearest streetlight as if it could tell her all she needed to know, "where are you?"

As if in answer, she saw a flash of something, in front and to the left. A person – or vampire, or humanoid demon, or something vaguely human in shape – dashed into the next street. Suspicious behavior if ever she saw it, and, since she had no other leads, a suspect.

"Hey!" she called, beginning to jog after it. "_Hey_!"

She rounded the corner, not knowing what to expect but not stopping to think about it. She'd broken into a run by this stage, and was almost sprinting when she went flying. Her hands shot out to break her fall, but she still hit the pavement with incredible force. All her momentum was flung downwards, and she landed with a heavy thud.

Her first instinct was to lie there until the pain went away. Her hands were covered in dirt and blood, she could feel a bruise forming on her cheek, and it felt like she'd jarred her shoulder. But she was the Slayer, and it was her duty, her obligation, to stand up and fight when she was hurt, broken, bleeding – anything short of dead.

She scrambled to her feet, and saw what she'd tripped over: a length of rope, strung between the base of a streetlight and the bottom of a fence post. Standing on the other side, watching her with an amused expression, was what could only be Willow's kidnapper.

* * *

Human.

That was Buffy's first thought. The guy looked so _human_. No horns, or tails, or scales. Nothing like that. Just a beard, a hat, and a trench coat. At first she was a little underwhelmed, a tad embarrassed. He was the one who'd tripped her? Him? He was just a man. Nobody.

Then, reminding herself that just because he looked human didn't mean he was, she said, "Who are you? Or at least, _what_ are you?"

He laughed, seemingly pleased by her attitude. "I've heard about you, you know," he replied, not answering the question. "The Slayer. The Chosen One. One girl in all the world and so forth. But, I must say, I'm not impressed. All we had to do was take one of your friends and you turn into a nervous wreck."

"Willow?" said Buffy, and she felt her heart jump into her throat. Her voice hardened and she demanded, "What did you do to her?"

"You _are_ a feisty one, aren't you?" he said appreciatively. "Seems I've underestimated you."

She ignored him. Her mind was set on one thing, and it would take a lot to shake her focus. "If you hurt her -" she began furiously.

The guy cut her off with a sadistic smile. "She's not the one we're going to hurt."

The color drained from her face. "What?" she said faintly.

A trap.

Before she had time to move, she felt someone grab her from behind. Hands fastened onto her arms, and she felt a jolt of fear shoot through her. She struggled, but the hands were strong. Twisting her neck, she could only just make out the person who was holding her; a woman, with dyed-blonde hair and impossibly bright blue eyes.

How was she so strong?

The guy in the trench coat was moving towards them now. Quickly. Too quickly. Buffy felt her legs turn to mush. She'd been in situations like this before. She'd been bitten, drowned, stabbed, poisoned, strangled, tortured, kidnapped, knocked out... but it never got less scary. Trench-Coat reached her, grabbing her by the chin and turning her face towards him.

His hands were smooth. He smelled like peppermint. She felt sick.

"No," she muttered, trying to get away, "no, no, no..."

Her cries grew louder, but he cut them off by slapping her across the face. Her cheek burning, she turned to face him again, in time to see him pull a needle from his pocket.

Oh god.

She knew what he was going to do. She couldn't stop it. She lashed out with her legs, trying to land a blow to his stomach, his knees, his face, anything. All she felt was air. She was going to die. He was going to kill her.

He was just a man.

* * *

She didn't know she was unconscious. She hadn't been aware of that final moment where her eyes had closed and her mind had gone blank. Now, though, she was aware. She was conscious. She was in pain.

Sitting up, she looked around the room. It was dark, musty, and underground. Typical. It echoed, too, which suggested a cave. That didn't help her much. She couldn't see the furthest corners, or any doors, windows, or grates of any sort.

Her hands were tied behind her, but her legs were free, so she stood up and went over to the wall. It was smooth, and solid. There were no nails, sharp rocks, or anything else she could use to untie herself. Not yet, anyway.

"Hello?" she said, loudly. "Anyone home?"

When there was no answer, she felt a mix of relief and fear, but, pushing it away, slammed her foot into the stone wall. One of the stones shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. Dropping to her knees, she started looking. Too small. Too blunt.

There. A solid piece of rock, with sharp edges. She lay down, rolled over, and maneuvered herself so that she could use the rock to cut the rope binding her hands. She'd just about finished when there was the sound of a door opening, and then footsteps.

Quickly finishing the job, she leapt to her feet, planning to find the door before anyone got in. Too slow. The door opened – she could only tell that from a dim outline and a rush of fresh air – and in walked the trench coat guy. Not being able to think of anything else, Buffy held her hands behind her. Maybe he'd think she was still tied up, and not a threat.

"You're up, I see," he said, coming to a halt a few meters away from her.

Eying him, she retorted, "Are you sure you're not a vampire? Because if I didn't know any better, that outfit suggests you've been dead for at least ten years. I mean, seriously, look at -"

Suddenly he was right on front of her, hand raised as if he was about to hit her. And man, he was angry.

Perfect.

He was close enough now. Just the right distance from her. She blocked his attack, aimed a kick at his midsection -

- and found herself flat on her back.

* * *

He was deceptively quick. And, as much as it pained her to admit it, he'd been quicker than she was. She didn't even know how he'd got her on the ground. Had he hit her? Kicked her? Pushed her? She wasn't sure, and she didn't have time to think about it.

Almost as soon as she hit the ground, she was up again, and ready to fight. Hands out in front of her, ready to block an attack or land a quick blow. Legs planted firmly, but tensed, ready to launch her out of harm's way at a second's notice.

Opposite her, the guy was doing the same. He was big – bigger than she was, though that wasn't unusual – but she had Slayer strength. She had Slayer speed too, but this guy had already proven himself to be quick too.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Nobody moved. Then Buffy made a mistake. Not the first, and not the last. Just one, but enough to get a reaction out of her opponent. Her eyes slid towards where she knew the door to be.

"I doubt even you would be quick enough to get past me," said the guy, grinning.

He was right. But she had to try.

"Oh yeah?" she said. Not her most original comeback, but enough to throw him a little.

She didn't need to get past him. She needed to get over him. She crouched, feeling the muscles in her legs contract, like a coil, a spring. He barely had time to look confused before she'd leapt up, and forward, over his head in one graceful move. She landed on the other side of him, straightened up, and sprinted for the door.

She reached it, flinging her full weight onto it. It didn't move. She searched desperately for a handle, but there was none. Realizing it was hopeless, she turned back to the guy, who hadn't moved except he was now facing her.

"Only opens from the outside," he said. "Lucky for you, though, someone will be coming in very shortly."

Somehow that didn't reassure her.

She started to ask who was going to be coming in, but only got a word or two into the sentence before the door opened and her question was answered.

* * *

Willow. It was Willow. What was she doing here?

Crazy thoughts hurled themselves around Buffy's mind, so quickly and with such force that she felt like her skull would crack. Then she caught one, and held onto it. Willow. She was alive.

The redhead walked into the room, tentatively, reluctantly. Her eyes landed on the Slayer and she let out a little whimpering noise.

"Buffy?" she said softly. "What are you -? Oomph."

Someone had nudged her from behind, and she stumbled forward a couple of steps. It was the same woman who'd helped catch her earlier. She was holding a knife, and stepped forward to press it into Willow's back. Willow straightened up, eyes wide with fear.

"Make a move," the woman dared. "I know you're fast, but even you can't stop this."

Logic told Buffy that the woman was right, but her heart told her she couldn't just give up. She flashed a look at Willow.

Being best friends could really come in handy sometimes. Like now. One look, and they had a plan. Buffy gave Willow a slight nod, and the redhead threw herself forward, out of the way of the knife. The plan had been for the girls to reach each other, and stay together. But now they were realizing another problem: the man.

He had good reflexes, and thought quickly. And he managed to get in between the two girls, blocking them off from each other. Buffy grabbed his arm and swung him around, out of the way and putting herself between him and Willow again.

He threw a punch. She countered. Managed to hit him square in the face. He stumbled backwards, but regained his balance quickly and came at her again. She dodged. The fight went on for maybe a minute more, with only a couple of minor blows being landed by either side.

Diving to the ground to avoid an attack, Buffy grabbed a sharp piece of rock. A weapon. Holding it up, she stood and turned to face her opponent.

"Stop."

The woman's voice seemed to wrap around Buffy's heart, her arms, legs, everything. She stopped. Then she turned, slowly, carefully. Saw the woman, holding Willow. A knife at her best friend's throat. She froze.

"Drop the rock," the woman ordered.

Buffy held it tighter. Unwilling to relinquish control.

"Drop it," the woman repeated. She put more pressure on the knife, digging it into Willow's skin.

Willow let out a soft but startled sound. Like when you tread on a puppy's tail.

There wasn't much that could stop Buffy from fighting. Injury, illness, heck, even death. But when a friend's life was in danger – especially Willow; she wouldn't, couldn't, let anything happen to Willow – the rules changed. Priorities shifted. It wasn't just her life in danger, and she refused to get any of her friends hurt.

Especially Willow.

* * *

The woman went to move again, to hurt Willow, to dig that knife into -

"Wait," said Buffy, looking not at her opponent but her best friend.

Willow's eyes said so much. There was fear, defiance, desperation, courage. And above all a message: don't give in. Don't let me be the reason for you getting hurt. Don't let them do this to us.

Buffy saw it all, read it all, understood it all. And ignored her.

"Okay," said the Slayer, holding her hands up. "Okay. You win. Just – don't hurt her."

"Good choice," said the man from behind her. "Now, put down your weapon -"

"My what?" she said. Then she realised. "Oh."

She dropped the rock and it clattered to the ground. For a moment there was silence. Stillness. And then the man moved towards her. She could see the rope in his hands, could tell what he was going to do, could see it was over. She'd lost.

She couldn't fight, not with Willow there. She couldn't put her life in danger like that. She had to do everything she could to keep her friend safe. Just the thought of Willow being hurt, being in danger, sent shivers through her.

No. It couldn't happen.

If the price she had to pay was her own life, then that's what she'd give. Anything to save Willow. A small thought flashed through her mind. Would she go to such great things for her other friends? She assured herself that she would, but she wasn't quite sure.

The man reached her, grabbed her hands, held them behind her. Tied them there. She didn't resist. Couldn't.

"Buffy," Willow implored, "don't."

"It's okay, Will," she replied, forcing herself to sound confident. "I'll get us out of this."

Or die trying.

* * *

There were three things Buffy couldn't figure out: what her captors were going to do to her, who they were, and how on earth the Scoobies managed to find her. She wouldn't find these out until much later, when she'd be forced into a new confrontation with these people. They served a very powerful demon, and they had a very dark plan.

Right then, though, she didn't much care about their motivations or their intentions. One minute there was just the four of them in the room, and suddenly there were eight. She didn't know how they all got in there, where they'd come from, why they were here, but it didn't matter. Oz crept up behind the man, Xander behind the woman, Cordy stood at one door, and Giles at the other.

The odds had turned.

It was almost funny, the way the guy's eyes went wide and terrified as he felt the tip of an arrow pressing into his back. A second later the woman's did the same.

"I'd recommend letting them go," said Giles, casually adjusting his crossbow so it was pointing at the guy's leg.

"That won't kill me," he pointed out, but he sounded less sure of himself.

"No," agreed Giles mildly, "I'd imagine it wouldn't."

But it would hurt. A lot.

The guy had a second to decide, but Buffy could sense it. She could tell he wasn't going to give up. Sure enough, he launched into action. He pushed Buffy away from him, so hard and so fast that she ended up on the floor.

Her hands still tied, she couldn't do anything to break her fall. She tried to position herself, in the few seconds until she hit the ground, so that she'd absorb most of the impact with her shoulder, but that failed. Her head was the first thing that hit the floor.

Hard enough to knock her out.

* * *

When she came to, Cordy was crouching beside her, untying the ropes.

"Thanks," muttered Buffy when she realised what was going on.

"Don't thank me," Cordy replied. "Just get us out of here and we'll call it even."

The situation was bad, but not one of the worst they'd faced. Numbers were on their side. Xander and Oz were dealing with the man, and Giles had managed to get Willow away from the woman.

Almost as soon as Buffy joined the fight, it was over. The man and woman were in the middle of the room, surrounded by the Scoobies. They couldn't get out. They weren't even trying anymore.

"I have two questions," Xander said, looking at the man and woman. "What are they, and can we kill them?"

Buffy walked around the two people, watching them, trying to see what they really are. Finally she said, "Human. So, unfortunately not."

"Damn," said Xander. "I would have loved to see you take them down."

"I'd love to as well," she said, "but I can't."

"It may be a foolish question," Giles said, "but what _are_ we going to do with them?"

Buffy shrugged. "Nothing?"

Then, seeing the way the man smiled – and the way he looked at Willow, with such greed and lust – she went up to him, so close that she could almost touch him.

"We'll let you go," she said, "this time. But if I _ever_ catch you near _any_ of my friends again, I won't be held responsible for my actions. Understood?"

They nodded.

That was it. Crisis averted. Again.

The Slayer turned to her best friend. Willow was trembling, but trying to keep it together. Buffy went over to her, put her arm on her shoulder, and silently led her out of the room.


	2. Willow

"You sure you're okay?" Buffy asked; the tenth time in half as many minutes.

"Buffy, I'm sure," Willow replied. Again. "But the way you keep asking me is making me think that maybe I shouldn't be."

It had been a long night. It was the early hours of the morning, and all the stress and tension had taken a strain. So Buffy was excused for having nothing more articulate to say than 'Huh?'

It was then that Willow noticed how tired her friend was. They were on their way back to Buffy's house, but even ignoring the fact that the streetlights made everyone look bad, Willow thought that the Slayer looked awful. Tired. Tense.

"Are _you_ okay though?" Willow asked softly.

Not meeting her eye, Buffy said, "Me? Peachy."

If 'peachy' meant 'unhappy', Willow thought she just might be telling the truth. But she didn't push the matter. Not yet, anyway.

They turned down the path, heading towards Buffy's house. They were nearly at the front door when they heard a scream from the house next door.

Buffy glanced at Willow. There were identical looks of shock and fear in their eyes. Then Buffy blinked, and that look vanished. She was all business.

"Stay here," she said. Soft but firm.

"Wait," Willow said.

Her friend, halfway through heading towards the back, turned. "What?"

Biting back all the things she really wanted to say, Willow told her, "Be careful."

The look Buffy gave her said enough. More than enough. There were entire stories in her eyes. Promises, lies, questions, answers.

Willow's heart missed a beat. With fear, she told herself. But she didn't quite believe that. There was something about her friend, about the way she – but no. That kind of thinking would get her nowhere.

She offered her a weak smile. She didn't want to stay where she was; she wanted to help. But the Slayer had spoken, and it was pointless to argue.

* * *

It was only a minute or two later, but it felt like hours. Only a minute or two of standing there in darkness, in silence, in hope and expectation and fear, before her friend came back around the front of the house. Willow was going to ask if everything was okay, but Buffy's eyes told her it wasn't.

"We need to go," she said.

Willow didn't know if her friend had actually said that, or if she'd just read it in her eyes. It didn't matter. They had to go.

Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and started leading her away. Something she'd done so many times before. But this time, it felt different. The Slayer quickly let go and moved on ahead.

"What's going on?" Willow asked as they ran through the streets.

"Vampire," she replied, not looking back.

"Why are we running?" Willow pressed. "If it's just one, can't you super-slay it or something?"

"Theoretically," Buffy said.

Her friend knew not to push her luck. She fell into silence, into the steady rhythm of running. They turned left, down an alley. Running down a dark alley, trying to escape from a vampire. It was a scene uncomfortably familiar for Willow.

The alley ended in a low brick wall. Well, low for a Slayer, anyway. Buffy leapt lightly over it, landing softly on the other side. Turning around, she saw Willow standing there, hesitating.

"Will?" she said. "Come on."

The witch walked up to the wall, and then stood there, one hand resting on the bricks. It was too tall for her. How could she get over it?

Then Buffy stepped forward, offering her hand. Willow hesitated, and then gratefully took it, and with the Slayer's help managed to scramble over the wall, landing more or less on her feet.

She was off-balance, though, and automatically grabbed Buffy's arm to steady herself. Then she met her friend's eyes, blushed, and turned away.

She didn't notice that Buffy was blushing too.

* * *

The pair kept moving, keeping to the well-lit streets and avoiding the shadows. After a while, Willow, jogging a few paces to catch up to her friend, pointed out, "They haven't been following us for a while. Do we really have to keep moving?"

Buffy, doing a quick scan of the area, finally said, "I don't think so. We should probably find somewhere safe for the night."

About to agree, Willow happened to glance at the horizon. "Um, Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

She pointed.

"Oh," said Buffy.

The sun was creeping up over the horizon.

Willow looked at her watch and said, "I think the night's over."

The news didn't seem to go down too well with Buffy. She groaned. "You're telling me that after spending the night running around the streets and rescuing you and everything, I have to go to _school_ now? With no sleep? Life is _not_ fair."

Willow grinned, but suddenly she felt tired. She hadn't been aware of how much that night had taken out of her, but the realisation that she'd lost an entire night hit her hard. Somehow she'd have to plough through a full day of school, sit through an awkward dinner with her mother, and then – only then – she'd be able to sleep.

She sighed too.

"Unless -" said Buffy, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

That look made Willow a little nervous, which was understandable. That look usually ended up with someone getting in trouble, or being in danger, or something equally awful.

"Unless -?" Willow prompted, curious despite her better judgment.

"You know," said Buffy, taking Willow's arm in her own and leading her on. The redhead couldn't ignore the tingles that shot up her arm. "We don't really have to go to school."

Willow thought Buffy may have felt the tingles too, because the blonde girl suddenly let go and looked away.

Pretending not to notice, and that she wasn't embarrassed, Willow prompted, "Technically we do have to go to school, you know."

"Well, yeah," agreed Buffy, "if you want to get a good education and a good job and all those other wonderful things the teachers are always going on about, but, right now, all I want is a soft bed and a little sleep."

Willow hesitated, and then smiled. "My sentiments exactly."

* * *

An hour later Buffy and Willow were settling down on the Slayer's couch. They'd waited until they were sure that it was safe – both from monsters and from mothers. They'd been inside for only a few minutes when the phone rang. Buffy's eyes widened.

"Uh oh," she said.

Willow nudged her arm. "You'd better get it. It could be important."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You and your logic."

Then she got up and went to the phone, leaving her friend to stare at the place where she'd been. With an effort, Willow switched her attention at the clock, and realised that on a normal day – although, she asked herself, what counted as a normal day anyway? - she'd be just about leaving for school.

Buffy turned to her, the phone in one hand, and mouthed, _Mom._

Then she turned back and said into the phone, "No, Mom, I'm fine – yes, Will's here – no, I know – yeah, we will – no, really, we – okay. Okay."

She hung up the phone and came back over. As she sat back down, Willow noticed that she was a little further away than she had been, and felt inexplicably disappointed.

"What's the verdict?" she asked.

"Our distraction worked last night," replied Buffy. "We lured the vamp away before it got too near my mom. And after thanking me for it, she made sure that you were with me – apparently your mom's been worried – and that we were planning on going to school."

Willow grinned. "You wouldn't have lied to her, would you?"

Buffy shook her head, feigning innocence. "No, of course not."

"Good," said Willow, and their eyes met for just a second before she forced herself to look away.

"Do you think the others went to school?" asked Buffy after a minute or two.

"Giles would have," said Willow at once. "And the others didn't have to run from any creatures of the night, so I'd say they didn't have as late a night as us. They'd have no excuse not to go."

"What d'you think they're doing right now?"

Willow shrugged. "Probably wondering where we are."

As if in response, the phone rang again. Buffy answered it, once again leaving Willow on the couch.

"Hey, Giles – yeah, we're fine – no, we had a little – no, we're actually – yes, Willow's here too – of course – all right."

She turned around after she'd hung up, and Willow knew at once that something was about to disrupt their day.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Giles said I have to go track down the vamp from last night," she said.

"During the day?"

"He said the sooner the better, so, yeah, I guess."

"I'll come," offered Willow at once, wondering how she'd find the energy to get off the couch, let alone hunt down a vicious vampire.

"Thanks, Will," said the Slayer, "but I think you'd better sit this one out. I'm going to go get some supplies from my room, and then I'll head off. Just sit tight, okay? I shouldn't be long."

She left, seeming to take all the warmth from the air. But all Willow could think about was how it had felt when Buffy had said her name.

* * *

When Buffy came back into the room, Willow noticed that she'd changed her shirt. She also noticed that the shirt she was now wearing was tight, showing off the shape of her body. As soon as she thought that, Willow bit her lip. What had gotten into her lately?

"You okay?" asked Buffy, leaning against the doorway.

"Yeah," said Willow, startled, "yeah, I'm fine."

The look she gave her made it clear she didn't believe her, but Buffy let it drop.

"Okay then," she said. "I'm off."

She pushed herself off from the wall, slipped a stake into her sock, and headed for the door.

"Wait," said Willow, getting to her feet.

Buffy whipped around, her eagerness evident in her eyes as well as her movements. "Yeah?"

Willow hesitated, wrestling with herself. "Nothing," she said at last, sitting back down. "Just – be careful, okay?"

"Always," she replied, and then she was gone.

Willow lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She was debating getting up to get a blanket when the door opened and Buffy stuck her head in.

"You know," she said, "you can come with me, if you want."

Willow was up and out the door in one smooth movement. They set off down the street, like they'd done so many times before. After a few blocks, Buffy paused.

"What's up?" asked Willow.

"The vamp went this way last night," she replied, glancing up and down the street. "But after that, I have no clue."

Willow was about to reply when they both heard a scream. They exchanged a glance, and then the Slayer said, "Or we could just follow the screaming."

She took off at a run, leaving Willow struggling to catch up. As much as she loved being one of the Scooby Gang, Willow sometimes found it hard just to keep up. Yet she knew that as long as Buffy was moving, she'd force her tired legs to follow.

Buffy skidded to a stop at the start of an alley.

"An alley," she scoffed. "How original."

Willow came to a stop beside her, and they both peered down the alley. They could see a shape at the end, hunched over and moaning softly. There was no sign of the vampire, but the alley had enough shadows that it might be able to hide.

"Stay behind me," Buffy instructed, beginning to creep down the alley.

Falling into place behind her, Willow thought of all the times they'd done this before. The tension, crackling through the air like electricity. Her heart, pounding like a sledgehammer. The uncertainty, the fear, the strange thrill of excitement.

She opened her mouth to say something, only to feel something huge and heavy slam into her back.

* * *

This was all too familiar for Willow. Her hands flew out to break her fall, and she ended up with grazed palms and aching joints, but avoided any serious injury. She hit the ground and rolled, more out of instinct than due to any actual thought. She heard something sprint past her, and she managed to call out a warning to Buffy as she scrambled to her feet.

The vampire that had knocked her down was now headed straight at Buffy, fangs bared and eyes wild. Casting a quick glance around her, Willow grabbed the only thing she could find that would serve as a weapon, and hurled the metal pole at the vampire. It missed, skimming past his face and clattering to the ground, but it distracted him long enough to give Buffy time to react.

The Slayer leapt at him with a flying sidekick, crashing into him and sending him tumbling to the ground. Then she pulled a stake out of her sock and plunged it into the vampire's chest, without any of her usual witty banter. She didn't even wait for the vampire to turn to dust before she yanked her stake back, slipped it into her pocket, and jogged towards Willow, who was leaning against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, resting her hand on Willow's arm.

Willow looked down at it and felt her heart miss a beat. This time, though, Buffy didn't move her hand away.

"I'm fine," Willow assured her.

Their eyes met for one tingling, tantalizing moment, and then Buffy's attention was captured by something else.

"You're hurt," Buffy said, her eyes becoming gentle as her hand brushed over a cut above Willow's eye.

"It's nothing," Willow said, straightening up and ducking her head. "I'll be fine."

And suddenly Buffy was leaning into her, letting her hand drift across Willow's face, playing with her hair.

"Yeah," Buffy whispered into her ear, so close that Willow could feel her breath. It made her shiver with delight. "I think we're going to be just fine."

* * *

They didn't talk about what happened.

It was just a kiss, Willow kept reminding herself. It was just one kiss. It didn't mean anything, anything at all. There was no need to tell Oz about it. There was no need to talk to Buffy about it. And yet.

She ran her finger along her lips, remembering the feeling. It hadn't been as passionate as her first kiss with Oz. It had been lighter, gentler, more hesitant. But it had felt incredibly right. Thinking about it now made her smile, even though there were so many 'what ifs' and 'uh ohs' associated with it.

She'd just about convinced herself to forget about the kiss when there was a knock at the door. A moment later it opened, and in stepped Buffy.

"Hi!" Willow said, a little too brightly.

"Hey you," Buffy said, sitting down on her bed.

Instinctively Willow moved over a bit, increasing the space between them. Just in case.

"You don't have to -" Buffy started. Then she just slightly shook her head.

"How are you doing?" Willow asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I'm okay. Tired, a bit sore. I'm used to it by now. What about you?"

"I'm… I'm Willow," she said, smiling. "I laugh in the face of danger and I mock the consequences of catastrophe. I'll be fine."

Her friend smiled.

A few beats of silence followed, during which Willow felt her heart slow down. Just being in Buffy's presence was calming, in a heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking kind of way.

"I think we need to -"

"I wanted to talk to you -"

They broke off, embarrassed. Willow gestured for Buffy to go first.

"I think we need to talk," Buffy said. "About what happened."

"Me too." Willow sat up, putting her pillow on her lap and resting her hands on it. "I'm not sure what… I mean, I don't know what it meant. I don't know what we do now. I don't -"

"Do you regret it?" Buffy asked suddenly. Realizing how blunt she'd been, she ducked her head and looked away. "I'm sorry. I just -"

"I don't," Willow said softly. "I don't regret it."

Buffy hesitates for just a second. "Me neither."

"So where does that leave us?" Willow said.

"I don't know."

The silence fell over them again, but Willow was surprised that the sound of her heartbeat wasn't deafening both of them. She could never forget that kiss. She didn't want to. Did that mean maybe they had a chance?

"Do you think we -" Willow started, not sure what she was going to ask.

"- have a shot?" Buffy finished.

Willow nodded.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," Buffy replied.

As they leaned into each other again, Willow couldn't help but think that maybe things would actually be fine after all.

* * *

**Okay, I kind of trailed off. But I like leaving things to the imagination. Please review and let me know what you think! :)**


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